


They've Got a Secret

by Lyekka



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergence After Season 8, Castiel & Sam Winchester Friendship, Domestic, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Jealous Dean Winchester, M/M, Misunderstandings, No Sastiel, No Smut, Petty Dean, Sam Deserves a Raise, Sam is a Good Brother, Some Angst with a Happy Ending, Suspected Sam/Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyekka/pseuds/Lyekka
Summary: Dean is sick, leaving Sam and a graceless Cas to handle a hunt without him. When the two return a few days later, they are closer than ever, and Dean starts to suspect something more is going on between them.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 13
Kudos: 357





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I wrote most of this about 5 years ago and recently felt motivated to start writing again and wanted to finish it. This story was meant to be a rom-com with lots of humor but turned out more angsty than originally planned. 
> 
> Set in an alternate version of season 9 where Sam recovered from the trials on his own (no Gadreel) and human Cas got to stay in the bunker (like most of my fics).
> 
> Additional tag: Brief mention of offscreen animal death/sacrifice.

"You're not serious," Sam says, eyeing his clearly unwell brother from a safe distance across the map table. "Dean, you can barely stand on your own." 

Sam’s point is immediately proven when Dean wobbles and has to clutch the back of the chair in front of him to steady himself. The duffel hanging on his shoulder falls to the floor with a thump and Dean glares down at it as if it’s betrayed him. "I'm fine, Sammy," he responds. "Took the meds and I'll be right as rain by the time we get there." 

"It's only a four-hour drive and you are _not_ fine," Sam repeats for what feels like the hundredth time in the past hour. "The doctor said you need to rest." 

Dean forces himself to stand upright, abandoning the safety of his chair support. The medication he was prescribed at the emergency clinic is making him drowsy, but he hasn't thrown up in at least two hours, so that's good enough for him. There's no way he’s sitting at home while his brother and a newly human Castiel work a case without him. 

"You don't even know what you’re hunting," Dean points out. It might be a losing battle considering he feels like he's going to faceplant if he doesn't sit down soon, but he has to try. "Cas still has on training wheels and you’re not fully recovered." 

“I really _do_ feel fine.” Sam rolls his eyes. "I’m also fairly sure it's just a witch. We can handle it." 

Ugh. Dean's stomach churns thinking about the copious amounts of disgusting bodily fluids he always ends up soaked in when they hunt witches. Nausea returns full force and his legs feel weak. He reaches for the chair again but stumbles and trips over the duffel on the floor. He hears Sam's panicked voice shout his name and fully expects to crack his head open on the tile. He has a brief moment to consider how stupid 'killed by duffel' is going to look in his obituary, when he feels two strong arms wrap around his waist from behind and he’s pulled back to his unsteady feet. 

Sam is still on the other side of the table, which means, "Awesome timing, Cas." Dean smiles, still lightheaded and a little shaky, so he doesn't feel any shame when he slumps back against Cas' chest and lets the former angel guide him down into one of the chairs. "Thought I was a goner." 

Cas hovers over him, placing one large hand on Dean's forehead and cradling the hunter's neck with the other. "I doubt very much that fall would have been the death of you, Dean." Cas frowns. "However, as I’m no longer able to heal you, I do wish you would be more careful." 

" _You_ be careful, Cas," Sam, who continues to keep his distance, warns, "he’s still contagious." 

Dean reluctantly pushes Cas' hands away from his face so he can turn and cough in his brother's direction. " _You're_ contagious!" 

Sam takes a few horrified steps back and Cas shakes his head at both of them. "You were ordered to get plenty of rest," Cas states as he hauls Dean to his feet and starts half-carrying him out of the war room. 

Dean grunts at the sudden movement, but doesn't resist. "Where we goin'?" 

"I'm taking you to bed." 

"Oh, yeah?" Dean says with a cocky smirk. "Could’ve at least bought me flowers first." 

"You want flowers?" Cas repeats confused. 

Sam groans. "Just ignore him, Cas. It's the meds kicking in and making him loopy." 

When they get to Dean’s room, Sam waits in the safety of the hallway outside the door while Cas helps the older Winchester to bed and methodically begins unlacing his boots. 

"Gotta work on the romance, buddy," Dean jokes half-heartedly. Cas ignores him and pulls off both boots before swiftly standing and forcing Dean to lie down. 

"Get some sleep," the former angel orders. "I have spoken with Kevin and he will be checking to ensure you are taking your medicine and drinking enough fluids. You may text him if you need assistance, but he would like me to inform you that he is not ‘your bitch' and requests that you only summon him when necessary." 

"Try not to drive the poor kid crazy while we're gone," Sam says. 

Dean wants to protest but his eyelids are heavy, and his head is starting to throb. He settles in bed and watches as Cas moves around the room cleaning up used tissues and making sure there's plenty of water, Gatorade ( _blue_ ), and a new box of Kleenex on the nightstand. Sam also watches him with an amused smile, but offers no assistance. 

When Cas is confident that Dean has everything he could possibly need within reach, he comes to kneel beside the bed. "Dean, I know this is difficult for you, but please rest and get well." 

"Alright," Dean mumbles. "Stop naggin' me." 

Cas sighs and moves to stand again when Dean grabs his wrist. "Thanks, Cas." 

"You're very welcome." 

Dean tugs and pulls him a little closer. "Watch out for the witches." 

"Of course, I'll be careful, Dean," Cas responds seriously. "I won’t let any harm come to your brother." 

Dean shakes his head and instantly regrets it. He works through the dizziness and whispers conspiratorially. "No, dude, you gotta watch out for the _fluids._ They start spewing everywhere, you hide behind Sammy, 'kay? Bitch was gonna let me bust my face on the floor 'cuz he's afraid to get the sniffles. Let _him_ get slimed." 

Cas' mouth quirks. "Sam was right, you are _loopy_." He moves to the door where Sam is waiting with a small bottle of hand sanitizer. Cas sighs and holds out both of his hands while the younger Winchester squirts a few drops of the liquid into each of his palms. 

"We'll check-in with you later," Sam tells his brother as he ushers Cas out of the room and shuts the door behind them. 

"Better," Dean mutters and makes sure his phone is charged before drifting off to sleep. 

* * *

Dean sleeps most of the day and wakes with an urgent need to pee. He’s still groggy when he makes his way to and from the bathroom –  mouth dry and breath like ass - noticing with annoyance that Kevin doesn't bother to check on him. He takes more of his medication and washes it down with room temperature water before crawling back into bed. 

He sleeps several more hours after that and doesn’t wake again until late morning the following day. The thought of eating, and subsequently throwing up food, is unappealing but the protest from his empty stomach makes him want to at least try to keep something down. He grabs his phone to text Kevin to bring him something and notices he has several unread messages. 

**Yesterday:**

**From Cas: 3:11 PM** \- _There is a flower shop near our hotel. Sam said I should ask if you wanted a bouquet._

**From Sam: 5:41 PM** \- _Definitely a witch. Cas already figured out who she is. We’re going for her tonight._

**From Sam: 5:42 PM** \- _This might be the shortest case I've worked. You should give Cas more credit. He’s a great hunter._

**From Cas: 5:46 PM** – _I discovered that the florist is the witch. She has been placing harmful curses on the flowers._ :o 

**From Cas: 5:46 PM** _\- I will not be purchasing a bouquet._

**From Kevin: 6:30 PM** \- _u alive?? Need anything_

**From Sam: 8:27 PM** \- _Turns out there are two witches. Brother-sister team up. One down. One to go._

**From Sam: 11:36 PM** \- _It’s done. Cas and I are going to stay the weekend and check out the town._

**Today:**

**From Cas: 8:59 AM** \- _Hello, Dean. How are you feeling? Did you get Sam's messages? We successfully killed the witches and are planning to stay in town to "sightsee" for a few days._ :D 

**From Cas: 9:03 AM** \- _I asked Kevin to check on you. He said you are asleep. I'm glad you are resting._ :) 

Dean ignores his brother’s messages and types out a quick response to Cas. 

**To Cas: 11:21 AM** - _I’m feeling better. Kevin is a shitty nurse btw. Good work on the case. Sam said you nailed it. Why are you staying longer? Wtf is there to see in Red Oak???_

Because _seriously_ , what the hell is so interesting about a crappy Iowa town that's so small two witches got made and ganked in a matter of hours? Dean dreads having to spend the next few days couped up in the bunker alone (Kevin doesn't count as company since he barely comes out of his room). 

He sends another message. 

**To Cas: 11:22 AM** \- _Come home and I’ll let you pick what we watch on Netflix._

While he waits for a reply, he sends a text to Kevin telling him to bring food. His phone buzzes when he gets new messages from both Sam and Cas. 

**From Sam: 11:24 AM** \- _Believe it or not Cas has interests that don't involve watching tv all the time. We both want to stay a few days. We'll be home on Monday._

**From Cas: 11:24 AM** \- _We will watch Netflix when I return. It's only three days. Let me know if Kevin is not keeping his word to look after you._

Dean grunts and drops his phone on the mattress. If Cas was so concerned about his wellbeing, then he'd already be home. He's sure it was Sam's idea to stay longer in order to avoid getting sick himself. If he feels up to it later, he’ll make a trip to Sam’s room to lick stuff. 

Kevin comes by a few minutes later and hands him a plate full of food. Dean's surprised and impressed to see that Kevin made him a real breakfast: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and a banana – he didn't even know the kid could cook. He's even more surprised that the smell of it all doesn't make him want to puke. Kevin offers him a mug but to Dean's disappointment, it's filled with orange juice instead of coffee. 

"Cas' orders," Kevin explains. "I have to watch you drink it." 

Kevin sounds less than happy about the whole arrangement and Dean glances up after taking a tentative sip. "You know he's human now. He can't actually smite you." 

"He's still scary." 

Dean hums in agreement and picks up a piece of bacon. It smells delicious and he hopes he can keep it down. He'll have to talk to Cas about intimidating the kid – because he's pretty sure it wasn't Kevin's idea to make him a balanced breakfast – but for now, he's not complaining. "Thanks, Kev." 

"Smile," Kevin responds and Dean looks up just in time to be blinded by a flash from his phone. "I'm sending Cas a picture so he'll quit bugging me." 

Job done, Kevin bolts before he's put to more work and leaves Dean alone again. He eats what he can – mostly the bacon, a few bites of bland eggs, and half of the banana (for Cas). 

* * *

Dean's not expecting them back until sometime Monday, so it's a surprise when he walks into the kitchen Sunday morning to find Sam and Cas leaning against the island, shoulder to shoulder, talking in hushed voices. 

"– my room –" Sam is saying but stops abruptly when he notices his brother. "Hey, Dean." 

"Good morning, Dean," Cas says and shifts to put some space between himself and Sam. "How are you feeling?" 

"Fine," he answers slowly. "Thought you guys weren't gonna be home 'til tomorrow." 

"We got back last night, actually," Sam responds. "Decided it wasn't worth wasting money on the room for another night when we live a few hours away." 

Dean wants to point out that it wasn't worth staying at all but he hasn't had coffee yet and not in the mood for his brother’s bitching. "So, how was the sightseeing in _Bumfuck_ , Iowa, anyway?" 

"Good," Sam answers vaguely. Dean doesn’t miss the glace his brother shoots their friend. 

"Yes," the former angel agrees. "Good." 

Well, if _that’s_ not suspicious. “Whatcha do there?" Dean asks. 

"We visited some old buildings and went to a museum; nothing you'd be interested in," Sam interjects and hands Dean a mug of freshly brewed coffee in an obvious attempt to distract him. 

Dean takes the offered drink because he needs the caffeine but keeps up his interrogation. "What kind of buildings, Cas?" 

Cas looks nervously at Sam. "Historical." 

He thinks Cas is about to crack but before he can question him further, Sam announces, "I taught Cas how to drive.” 

Oh. On one hand, Dean's relieved that they weren’t acting sketchy because they had somehow started another apocalypse in the Hawkeye State, on the other... "You let him drive Baby?" 

"He's been eager to learn and you've been putting it off for weeks." Sam puts a protective hand on Cas' shoulder. "He did great, by the way. He drove us all the way home." 

It's not so much that Dean's upset that Cas drove his car (maybe a little), it’s that he had been looking forward to being the one to teach his friend to drive. Sure, it wasn’t his main priority and he focused more on training Cas to fight and hunt like a human, but it’s not like he meant to blow the guy off. He's somewhat irritated that Sam swooped in and took that opportunity from him. 

"Well, Sam, you are an exceptional teacher." 

Cas' voice pulls Dean from his reverie just in time to see his brother grin at the former angel and slide his hand from Cas' shoulder down to his back. It's oddly intimate for them and Dean wonders when they became close enough that touching was something they did. 

"Are you angry?" Cas asks. 

"Hmm?" Dean clears his throat and shakes away the weird feeling he's getting watching the two of them interacting. "No, it's fine. One less thing for me to do." 

Cas frowns at that and his shoulders sag. Dean thinks maybe he should apologize, but before he gets the chance, Sam is giving him a patented bitchface and saying “Let’s go, Cas,” while dragging the former angel out of the kitchen with him. 

Dean watches them leave, a little offended that the assholes couldn’t spend more than two minutes in the same room with him. He finishes off his coffee, then digs out the ingredients he needs to start breakfast. When he ends up with only enough batter to make pancakes for himself and Kevin, well, maybe Sam should learn to cook his own damn food, since he’s so _exceptional_ and all. 

* * *

Things seem relatively normal the rest of the day, except when Sam immediately waved off Dean’s suggestion that they look for a hunt now that he’s feeling better, and Cas’ random and frequent trips to the bathroom. 

It’s later that evening when Cas starts to excuse himself for the second time during an episode of _Farscape_ that Dean finally questions it. Because it can’t be healthy to pee that often, especially since Cas hasn’t had more than half a bottle of beer in the past couple of hours. 

“Dude, you got a UTI or what?” Dean asks, pausing the tv and turning in his spot on the couch to glare at the former angel. “You _just_ went.” 

“That was nearly forty minutes ago,” Cas informs him matter-of-factly. “It’s time to go again.” 

_Time to go again?_

“Most people don’t have a piss schedule, Cas.” 

“Well, ‘most people’," Cas starts and Dean rolls his eyes at the use of air quotes, "get to spend their first few years of life acquainting themselves with their body’s needs.” Cas huffs in frustration. “I’m still adjusting and learning to...read the signals.” 

He sounds shy and maybe a little embarrassed by the conversation, so Dean decides to give him a break. “Alright, go before you piss your pants.” 

“I was not in danger of urinating on myself,” Cas responds on his way out of the small room they had recently converted into an entertainment space. 

Dean has a few moments to feel guilty for bringing it up when he realizes he’s been played. Cas has been human, or as human as a graceless angel can be, for six months and he’s never had any trouble holding it in. He waits another minute before getting up to follow his friend to see what's really going on. Glancing down the hallway that leads to the nearest toilet he sees that the bathroom door is open and the lights are off; Cas is nowhere in sight. He heads down the opposite corridor, which will take him past their bedrooms, in case Cas decided to make the long and inconvenient trek to the bathrooms on the other side of the bunker. 

When he rounds the corner near the bedrooms, he hears a creak as Sam’s door is opened, flooding light into the dimly lit hall and his brother’s voice saying, “-- back or he’ll get suspicious.” 

Dean quickly ducks back behind the wall and peeks around the corner to watch Cas backing out of Sam’s bedroom. Sam, who said he was too tired to join in on their binge-watch of the most underappreciated series in sci-fi and was going to bed early, is not only awake, but apparently much better company than Dean if this is where Cas has been running off to every five minutes. 

“I’ll return later,” Cas says and softly shuts the door, like he’s trying to keep his presence there from being discovered. 

Which is exactly what he’s doing! Dean watches Cas retreat, then heads back the way he came, stopping to hit the head because he’s had more than a few beers and actually does need to relieve himself. When he gets to the tv room, Cas is there with his legs spread out on the couch and his favorite blanket thrown over them. 

“Where did you go?” Cas has the audacity to ask. 

Dean reins in his irritation at being lied to and sits down at the other end of the couch when Cas moves his legs out of the way. Once the hunter is seated, Cas doesn’t wait for permission before stretching out again and settling his feet in Dean’s lap. 

“Bathroom,” Dean answers casually. “Must have missed you.” 

“I was getting cold.” Cas gestures to the fleece blanket he got as a souvenir a few weeks ago after solving his first case as a real boy. “Sam packed it in his bag yesterday, so I stopped by his room to grab it.” 

_Oh._ “Thought Sam went to bed.” 

“He was still up reading,” Cas answers. “Shall we continue?” he asks. 

The explanation checks out but Dean senses there’s still something important being kept from him. He shoves it down for now and makes himself as comfortable as he can on a lumpy, second-hand sofa with Cas’ ankles digging into his thigh and presses ‘play’ on the remote. 

* * *

Dean’s clock tells him it’s just after seven in the morning when he crawls out of bed and throws on his dead guy robe. 

He’s on his way to the shower room when he comes to an abrupt stop. Cas is leaving Sam’s room - _again_ \- this time with Sam in tow. Cas’ hair is a mess and his t-shirt and sweatpants are sleep rumpled; he looks like he’s just woken up. In Sam’s bedroom. Both men are too engrossed in their murmured discussion to even notice Dean as they make their way down the hall and out of sight. 

Dean recalls Cas telling his brother “I’ll see you later” the night before, but he also knows that Cas went to his own room when they parted ways after their _Farscape_ marathon. So, _what the fuck?_

He refuses to accept the only explanation his mind was giving him, because there is absolutely no goddamn way his baby brother and his best friend spent the night together. 

But it would explain why they’ve been so chummy lately. 

It also explains why Cas kept slinking off last night. 

And why he keeps catching them in the middle of whispered conversations. 

And why they spent an extra two days in Iowa, like it was a romantic weekend getaway. 

Where they wouldn’t have to sneak around and could be as loud as they wanted when they fu- 

“What are you doing?” 

_Jesus fucking Christ!_ Dean’s startled from his distressing thoughts and whips around to find Kevin looking at him like _he’s_ the one acting weird. 

“Whoa, you look kind of pale,” Kevin says, taking a few steps back. “You’re not sick again, are you? ‘Cuz I don’t have time to wait on you hand and foot and if Cas thinks he can-” 

“I’m fine, Keven!” Dean snaps as he rushes back into the safety of his bedroom and slams the door. 

He leans against the closed door and rubs his hands down his face. He’s overreacting. There’s a perfectly innocent explanation for his brother and friend's behavior. Sure, he's never admitted his feelings for Cas out loud but he knows Sam isn’t blind or stupid. Sam _knows_. Hell, he’s almost positive that Cas knows too. They all have an unspoken understanding to never address the _thing_ between him and Cas. Not until Dean’s ready. If he’s ever ready. 

They wouldn’t do this to him. 

Unless, of course, that’s the reason they’re keeping it a secret. 

* * *

Dean spends the rest of the day watching them while they sort through the extensive Men of Letters archives. Cas disappears occasionally but Sam never follows, so at least they aren’t sneaking off to suck face behind the stacks. He doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary. Sam and Cas nerd out over ancient lore while the latter amuses both brothers with his snarky comments over the inaccuracies in the MoL angelic research and the “flagrant disregard of celestial hierarchy" when they find a particularly contentious document ranking cherubs higher than seraphim. Castiel, it turns out, is classist. 

“Alright, how ‘bout we take the night off?” Dean suggests after they’ve been at it for hours and he hadn’t noticed anything that would confirm his suspicion. Time to try a different tactic. 

Sam sits back in his chair and lets out a relieved sigh. “I could use a break. What’d you have in mind?” 

“I was thinking we’d hit up the bar,” Dean says. “Have a few drinks and teach Cas to hustle pool. Meet some ladies,” he adds and throws a suggestive wink to the former angel, who frowns unimpressed. “See where the night takes us.” 

Sam clears his throat and looks uncomfortable. “Why don’t we stay in and have a movie night instead? It would get Kevin out of his room for a while. Plus, you’re always saying that Cas needs to learn the classics.” 

_Suspicious_ , Dean thinks. “Dude also needs to learn how to socialize with other people,” he counters. 

“He’s not you, Dean!” Sam snaps back. “Stop trying to force things on him he doesn’t want.” 

“I would rather stay here.” 

Dean ignores Cas’ response and focuses on his brother. “I bet you know all about what he wants.” 

Sam has the nerve to look confused when he asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I can speak for myself,” Cas interrupts as he stands suddenly and pushes back from the table. “I have no interest in going out tonight, Dean, however I understand that you become... _restless_ and desire company other than myself and your brother.” 

“Cas,” Sam says and it almost sounds sympathetic. 

Cas gives the younger Winchester a look Dean can’t decipher and turns back to him. “I was hoping we could continue our ‘binge watch’ tonight, but if you need time for yourself, by all means, don’t let us stop you.” 

Dean watches the former angel leave before turning back to look at his brother and is met with an expected bitchface. 

“You’re an idiot,” Sam tells him before following Cas out of the room. 

Dean’s not sure why he feels guilty all of a sudden. 

He places the pile of folders he had been sorting through back in the box he pulled them from – or _a_ box, whatever – and goes to find his friend. If Cas wants to spend the evening with him watching sexy leather clad aliens screw up the galaxy, Dean certainly isn’t going to deny him. 

* * *

It’s past dinner time already, so once he gets the tv room set up he calls in a takeout order to Lebanon’s only pizza place - which is technically a gas station that happens to sell pizza – and goes to find Cas. 

The kitchen and library are empty and there’s no answer when he knocks on the former angel’s door. He must be with Sam. 

He silently creeps close to Sam’s room and can hear their voices coming through the vent on the door, talking softly. He can’t make out what’s being said at first, but then Sam is laughing quietly and saying Cas’ name with such affection it makes Dean feel like he’s been gutted - and he was literally disemboweled in Hell - as the shred of hope he had left is crushed. 

Cas’ gravelly response is too muffled to make out, but it makes Sam chuckle again. 

There’s a distinct sound of the squeaking springs from Sam’s shitty mattress as someone shifts on the bed and Dean strains to hear what’s being said. 

Sam speaks again, so low he’s barely audible. 

_“That's it.”_

_“You like that, don’t you?”_

_“Easy now. Not so fast.”_

Sam’s gentle voice conflicts with the disturbing images in Dean’s mind and he doesn’t stick around to hear more. He swings by the tv room to grab the bottle of Jack Daniels he left there and heads to the garage. 

Baby is parked exactly where Sam and Cas left her days ago, with the keys still in the ignition. He drives away from the bunker and is on the road that leads into town before letting the despair wash over him. 


	2. Chapter 2

The next time Dean wakes he finds himself slumped over the backseat of the Impala; sweaty face sticking uncomfortably to the leather and his back and neck protesting the awkward position. He sits up - resigning himself to the twinge he’ll feel in his lower back the rest of the day – and takes stock of his situation. 

It’s early morning and the sun’s barely over the horizon. Looking around he remembers he parked in the lot behind the local gas station. There’s a semi-truck idling nearby and he expects the sound of its engine is what pulled him from his drunken slumber. The memory of last night’s events stirs his nausea just as the smell of whiskey and stale pizza hits him. He barely gets the car door open in time to empty the contents of his stomach on the pavement. 

Leaning as far out of the car as he can manage to avoid splashing vomit on Baby’s paint, he spits out the last of the bile. Movement off to the side catches his attention and he sees an older woman walking by with a foam cup in her hand. She spares him one disgusted glance as she continues to the semi-truck and climbs in the cab. Dean doesn’t care enough to feel ashamed. 

The bottle of Jack taunts him from the floorboard, so he throws it out and is only marginally satisfied when it shatters on the concrete. Looking around he finds the pizza boxes in the front seat; one box sits empty – Dean had eaten every slice – while Sam’s veggie pizza and Cas’ plain cheese were left untouched. Dean tosses them out to join the remains of the whiskey bottle. 

Shutting the door, he leans against it and rests his head on the cold glass. He must have made a pathetic sight last night; gulping down booze and questionable gas station pizza, until he passed out in the backseat. 

He’s startled by a knock on the front window and a muffled female voice saying, “Hey!” 

He sees the woman again – the truck driver – now standing outside of the Impala with a scowl on her face and gesturing for him to roll down his window. He waves her off, not interested in whatever she’s selling. Or whatever she thinks _he’s_ selling. 

She knocks again with more force and when he continues to ignore her, she yanks the front driver’s side open and leans in to glare at him. “I’m talkin’ to you, douchebag.” 

“What the fuck?” Dean shouts. He reaches for the knife he usually keeps tucked in his boot, only to remember that he didn’t grab it when he bolted from the bunker. 

“Clean up your trash!” the woman yells. 

Dean blinks at her dumbly. He was expecting a demon attack, not to be chastised by a hippie trucker for littering. “What?” 

“You hard o’ hearing or didja drink away your last brain cell on that bender las’ night?” 

One not entirely full bottle of cheap whiskey hardly qualifies as a _bender._ “Get the fuck out of my car!” 

“Don’t matter if you’re havin’ a rough go of it,” she scolds. “There ain’t no reason to make your crap someone else's problem.” 

“You don’t know the half of it, lady,” Dean says with an unamused snort. “Now piss off.” 

“You’re a real asshole.” She steps back out of the car, slamming the door shut – _oh, hell no_ – and returns to her semi. 

Dean clambers into the front seat and slides behind the wheel. Perhaps he’s not ready to head back to the bunker, or maybe because his full bladder is making itself known, but he hesitates to turn the key. 

The nosy trucker watches him with a death stare from the driver’s seat of her big rig and Dean wonders how much restraint it’s taking her not press the accelerator and plow into him. _Been there, done that, sister._

With a defeated sigh he pulls the keys from the ignition and climbs out of the car. He sidesteps the pile of sick near the back door and squats down to collect his garbage. When he’s finished, he tosses everything in a dumpster next to the station, then heads inside the store to relieve his bladder.

He passes the semi on his way back to the Impala and flips off the crazy driver. She retaliates by blaring her horn and scaring the shit out of him. 

Dean stumbles and nearly falls on his ass. The glare from the rising sun prevents him from seeing inside the cab from this angle, but he thinks he can almost hear the sound of her cackling over the truck’s rumbling engine. 

_Touché._

He slips back into the Impala and begins the short journey home. 

* * *

It’s still early enough that the bunker is quiet when he returns and he’s able to make it to the kitchen without running into anyone. He starts the coffee machine and leans against the counter while he waits for it to heat up. 

There are dirty dishes in the sink that weren’t there when he left the night before. They must have made themselves dinner. He knows it’s irrational to be irritated that they ate without him, especially considering the pizza he ordered them is at the bottom of a dumpster being eaten by flies, but they didn’t even bother to call and check in when he didn’t come home. 

They were probably too wrapped up in each other to notice he was gone. 

It hurts, but he gets it. He had plenty of time to think last night while he was wallowing in self-pity and regret. 

Sam’s a good guy; the best, actually. He’s loyal and compassionate and when he falls for someone, he goes all in. It’s no wonder Cas chose him. 

He knows Cas will be good for Sam, too. His brother’s life has been a goddamn horror show and he deserves to be with someone who understands that. Dean’s not sure why Sam never mentioned that he was into dudes, but it’s not like he’s been an open book about himself, either. 

Dean still feels betrayed, but it’s his own fault for assuming Cas would wait around forever. If he had accepted himself sooner and acted on his feelings, then maybe he wouldn’t have lost him. 

He thinks of what the crazy trucker said to him: _“There_ _ain’t_ _no reason to make your crap someone else's problem.”_

So, he won’t. 

Maybe someday Dean will figure out how to actually be happy that his baby brother and best friend were able to find something good in one another. But for now, he has no choice but to suck it up and accept it. 

The unwashed dishes are a blight on his typically immaculate kitchen but he leaves them for the new couple to clean. Instead, he goes to the junk drawer and rummages around until he finds what he needs. At the sink, he chuckles to himself while he rips off a piece of Scotch tape and places it firmly under the water tap. 

Accepting their relationship doesn’t mean he’s going to be an adult about it. 

The coffee pot is full by the time he’s finished, so he pours some in a mug and waits. It isn’t long before Sam wanders in and greets him with a frown. 

“Well, hello to you, too,” Dean grunts. 

“Do you expect me to ask how your night was?" Sam sighs. "You made your plans pretty clear.” 

“You don’t even know where I went.” 

Sam looks at him incredulously and scoffs. “Really? ‘Let’s hit up the bar and see where the night takes us’ doesn’t ring any bells?” 

Ah. Sam thinks he went out and picked up a towny. That doesn’t explain his attitude. “So, what’s your problem?” 

“I thought you were finally-,” Sam starts then cuts himself off. “You know what, forget it. Do what you want, just don’t tell us about it.” 

_Us._

Because Sam and Cas are a package deal now. “Right. Sorry, forgot we’re keeping our sex lives secret these days.” 

“What are you talking about?” Sam asks, and Dean will give it to him, he does look genuinely confused. “Are you still drunk?” 

“ _No_ ,” Dean responds. “And if you wanna keep bullshitting me, fine, but stop acting like I’m the dick here.” 

“Whatever, jerk.” Sam maneuvers past him and goes to the refrigerator. 

While his brother has his back turned, Dean refills his coffee cup, then grabs the salt shaker from the counter. He unscrews the cap and dumps the contents into the half-full pot and places it back on the warmer. 

“Coffee’s fresh,” Dean says on his way to the door. “And don’t expect me to clean up in here.” 

* * *

“DEAN!” 

Sam’s voice carries into the library where Dean is searching for a case on his laptop. Heavy footsteps prelude Sam’s arrival and he stomps through the doorway in a hissy. His shirt is soaked and water drips from his hair and face. 

“Tape on the faucet? Real mature!” Sam grouses and peels away a clump of hair that’s plastered to his face. “It sprayed everywhere!” 

Dean snorts, casually leaning back in his chair and props his feet on the table. “Relax, Sammy. Have some joe,” he responds and pretends to drink from his regretfully empty mug. 

Sam’s nostrils flare. “Would love to, but some jackass used the last of the grounds to make coffee, then sabotaged it.” 

“ _Sabotage,_ really?” 

Sam huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re too old for stupid pranks, Dean!” 

Wow, _rude._ “Well, you’re too old to act like a bitch, but here we are.” 

“We’re not the only people who live here. What about Kevin? Or _Cas?_ You know how he gets without caffeine in the morning.” 

“So, take the little angel out for that frou-frou shit he likes,” Dean suggests and almost manages not to sound bitter. “Make a date of it.” 

“I’m no longer an angel,” Cas says gravely when he appears behind the taller Winchester. He’s still in his sleep clothes and blinks tiredly at each of them. His gaze lingers on Sam, tracing over his drenched form, down to the small puddle at his feet before turning back to Dean – eyeing his cup enviously – and asking the most pressing question, “Why is there no coffee?” 

Sam exhales loudly, makes an exaggerated gesture that Dean guesses means “you see?” and stalks off. Presumably to find a towel. 

“Sorry, buddy, Sam must’ve finished it off,” Dean says and turns back to his computer screen. “There should be tea in the cabinet.” 

“I no longer drink tea,” Cas informs him. His voice sounds far grimmer than the statement should warrant and Dean glances up at him curiously. 

“One of the witches in Red Oak was operating out of an herbal tea shop,” Cas explains with a grimace. “He had been using his business to target and curse his victims by adding his own ingredients to the tea blends. It was neither ethical nor sanitary.” 

“I told you,” Dean says, disgusted. He knows exactly what type of “ingredients” witches uses for their nasty spells. “Freakin’ witches!” 

Cas nods. “Yes, well, I suppose you could say it put me off tea for a while.” 

“That sucks, man,” Dean responds. “Still no coffee.” 

Cas makes a disgruntled noise, like he had been hoping Dean would sympathize with his plight and let him in on a secret stash. The hunter ignores him and continues looking for anything that will get him out of the bunker for a few days. He only looks up again when he hears Cas shuffle away sadly and pushes down a pang of guilt. Missing one day of coffee isn’t going to kill the guy, and it’s not like Dean was aware of Cas’ recent aversion to tea when he salted the coffee. Witches really are the worst. 

_Witches_. 

Something clicks into place. 

Sam and Cas, who have never expressed an ounce of romantic interest in one another, worked a case involving witches and came home boyfriends. 

Dean feels relief flood over him for a moment, then his stomach drops. If they have been unknowingly under a love spell, then their relationship may not be real, but the curse has likely compelled them to do _things_ they would not have consented to. The repercussions could potentially destroy their friendship. 

He closes the news tab and spends the next few hours searching for information on love curses and counter spells. The other occupants of the bunker assume he’s researching for a case and mostly leave him to it. Cas wanders in a couple of times and offers assistance but Dean turns him away. He decides not to confront his brother and friend about it directly. If he manages to neutralize the spell without them knowing they’ve been under a magical influence, they'll be able to chalk the past few days up to being a crazy fling and move on. Then, hopefully, things will get back to normal. 

* * *

He’s immersed in a tome on Aphrodite and love magic – with surprisingly erotic details – and doesn’t hear Cas enter the library until he’s standing at the table and reading the ridiculous title of one of the New Agey books Dean has already gone through. 

_“The Practitioner’s Guild to Perfect Passion Potions.”_

Dean startles at Cas' voice and slams the book in front of him shut. “Dammit, don’t sneak up on people.” 

“Apologies,” Cas says, eyes examining the various tomes, journals, and documents laid out on the surface of the table. “What are you looking for?” 

“Mind your own business,” Dean answers and swats Cas’ hand away when he reaches for one of the files. “Said I wanted to work alone.” 

Cas looks taken aback at being chastised. “You have been at this for hours and won’t tell us what you’re doing. If lives are in danger, you should let us help.” 

“It’s not for a case,” Dean responds. “Just lookin’ into something.” 

“Passion potions?” Cas asks skeptically. 

“Magic, in general,” Dean says, hoping he’ll buy it. “Just thought after that last case it might be good to refresh some of my witchy knowledge. For next time.” 

“Why?” 

“Why not?” Dean shrugs. “You spotted two witches and solved the case in less than a day. Can’t have you upstaging me like that.” 

“Well, I did have an advantage,” Cas says. “I thought Sam would have told you.” 

Dean shakes his head and wonders if Cas is about to reveal his and Sam’s not so well-kept secret. “He didn’t give details on what went down.” 

“When we encountered the witches, I realized I was able to sense the mystical energy created by their spell work,” Cas says proudly. 

“How?” Dean asks. “Thought you were human now.” 

“I don’t have grace, but I’m not technically human either,” Cas corrects him. “Although the ability is severely muted, it appears that the nature of my trueform allows me to detect other forms of supernatural energy.” 

“Awesome,” Dean responds. “That’ll come in handy.” 

Cas nods. “I’m happy to be of use.” 

Cas turns to leave the room but something he said suddenly hits Dean. “Wait, that means you would know if something, or some _one_ were under a spell, right?” 

“I would need to be in proximity to the magic to sense it, but yes,” Cas answers with a small smile. 

"You're sure about that," Dean asks.

"Of course."

“Fuck.” 

“Dean?” The barely-there smile drops from his friend’s face. “Is there a reason you’re asking? Did something happen while you were out last night?” 

“No,” Dean says gruffly. “Like I said, just curious.” 

Cas doesn’t seem convinced but he thankfully doesn’t question it. “Sam and I are going into town for groceries. Would you like to take a break and accompany us?” 

“Hell, no.” The last thing Dean wants is to be stuck in a car with those two. He had been so sure that magic was to blame, but if Cas is correct, then he would know if they were cursed. “Take one of the junkers,” he says and begins piling all of his research material into one stack. “Baby needs a tune-up.” 

There’s an awkward silence as Cas stands there for a few more moments. Dean keeps his eyes locked on the table, focusing on cleaning up the traces of his wasted day, and doesn’t look up again until he hears soft footsteps retreating. 

* * *

Disappointed that his love magic theory was a bust, Dean manages to successfully avoid everyone for the next couple of days. He spends most of his time in his bedroom or in the garage restoring a vintage Thunderbird that was left behind by the Men of Letters. He had noticed Cas admiring it and planned to give it to him when it was road ready, but now he’s not so sure. 

He’s on his bed, in the middle of spite watching Netflix without Cas when there’s a knock on his bedroom door. He ignores it, but after the third unanswered knock the door cracks open and Cas sticks his head inside. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says. “May I come in?” 

“You already did.” 

Cas pushes the door open enough to step in and close it behind him. “I’m sorry, but I was hoping we could talk.” 

“Kinda busy here,” Dean says, turning his laptop to show Cas what’s on the screen. “Season 4 is getting good.” 

Cas doesn’t comment on the fact that Dean watched a season and a half of the show without him. Instead, he says, “Do you want me to leave?” He shifts uncomfortably where his back is pressed against the door. “The bunker,” he clarifies. 

“What?” 

“I know I’m practically useless without my grace,” Cas continues. “I’m trying to be a good hunter and do what I can to help, but please tell me if I have overstayed my welcome.” 

“N- no, you _haven’t._ ” Dean swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands. “What are you talking about?” 

“I do not wish to be a burden,” Cas states. 

“You're not.” Dean strides over to Cas and latches onto his forearm to keep him from leaving. “Where the hell is this coming from?” 

Cas shakes his head in denial. “Dean, you have barely spoken to me in days, and when you have, it’s been terse. You have also rebuffed every attempt I’ve made to spend time together.” He points to the laptop on the bed as proof. 

“Just needed space,” Dean says. “Besides, didn’t think you’d notice since you and Sam have been joined at the hip lately.” 

“I thought by now you would know how much I value our time together, Dean,” Cas says. “Of course, I would notice your absence.” 

Cas’ voice is soft and sincere and Dean can’t stop himself from glancing down at his lips. When he looks up again, he finds Cas’ eyes wide in understanding and turns his head away. 

“Dean, please look at me.” Cas waits for Dean to meet his gaze, then steps closer and settles his hand at the base of Dean’s neck. He asks softly, “Is this what you are hiding from?” 

“Don’t.” Dean wants to pull away, withdraw from Cas’ space, but instead, the grip he has around his friend’s arm tightens. 

_“Dean.”_

Cas' breath ghosts over his lips and Dean doesn’t move away when he leans in, sealing their mouths together. They clutch each other, bodies pressing closer as they both sink into it. Cas’ lips are dry but soft, and his stubble scrapes against Dean’s skin; it’s unfamiliar but electrifying. The kiss deepens and a low moan escapes from Dean's throat when he feels Cas' tongue swipe over his bottom lip.

The sound of it snaps Dean back into the reality of what he’s doing. He pushes Cas away. “No!” 

Cas stumbles back stunned. “Dean?” 

“Never touch me like that again,” Dean says and tries to keep his voice from breaking. “I – _we_ can’t do this.” 

Cas swallows and nods. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly on his way out of the room. 

Dean slumps down on the bed and buries his face in his hands. What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck was _Cas_ thinking? How dare he betray Sam like that. 

Anger flares on behalf of his baby brother. Sam deserves better from both of them. He’s out of his bedroom and on his way to Sam’s before he can talk himself out of it. 

Sam’s door opens before he even has a chance to knock. 

“You have some nerve,” Sam says and he looks more furious than Dean's seen him in years. 

“Cas told you,” Dean states. At least that part is over with. Now he braces for the fallout. 

“Yeah, he did,” Sam responds. “It’s not like he has anyone else to confide in.” 

“Look, I know you’re pissed,” Dean says, “but it won’t happen again.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam asks. “Do you really not care about hurting Cas?” 

“What about the two of you?” Dean snaps back. “It’s not like either of you gave a shit about hurting me when you started sleeping together.” 

“When we did _what?_ ” 

The door opens further and Cas appears standing next to Sam, squinting at him in confusion. Dean tries not to think about the fact that he's the reason the former angel's lips are still wet and kiss swollen.

“Why would you think,” Sam gestures incredulously between himself and their friend, “that Cas and I are having sex?” 

“I’m not stupid, Sam,” Dean responds. “Took me all of one day to figure it out. Not that you guys were being subtle.” 

“I don’t understand,” Cas says with a furrowed brow. 

“So, wait,” Sam starts, “is that why you’ve been acting like a bigger jerk than normal?” Sam, the bastard, laughs. “You’re wrong, Dean. You are incredibly stupid.” 

Sam disappears into the room, leaving Dean to face Cas alone. “Sam and I have not been intimate,” Cas informs him. He sounds insulted at the suggestion. 

“Then what have you been doing?” Dean asks. “You’re hiding something.” 

“We are,” Sam says when he reappears cradling a small bundle in the crook of his arm. “Them.” 

He pulls the cloth back to reveal two small wiggling animals. 

“Are those rats,” Dean asks, taking in the white fur speckled with black spots. 

“They’re baby rabbits, Dean,” Cas answers. 

“Their mother is dead and they won’t survive on their own,” Sam explains. 

“Okay. So, you guys are playing _My Two Dads_ to a couple of garden rats?” Dean says. “Why hide it?” 

“Because we know how you feel about pets,” Sam answers defensively. 

“Pets?” Dean shakes his head. “Hell no, you’re not keeping them.” 

“You see, that’s why we didn’t tell you,” Sam says. “What are we supposed to do with them when they’re weaned?” 

“I don’t know, Sam,” Dean responds. “Send them outside to live with the other Thumpers.” 

“No, you can’t.” Cas sounds horrified. “They’re domesticated, not wild rabbits.” 

“They’ll die,” Sam adds. 

“Then figure it out,” he says. “No pets in the bunker!” 

He storms away, unwilling to argue about it further. The rage dulled considerably with the knowledge that he had been wrong about his brother and friend, but he still wants to cling to the last embers of it. They were lying, after all, and their deception wasn’t easy on him. He’s embarrassed by his actions and has no idea where he and Cas stand. He needs a chance to process everything that just happened. 

* * *

Sam finds him in the kitchen half-way through a six pack. 

“So,” Sam plops into the seat across from him. “Me and Cas, huh?” he says with raised eyebrows and a smirk. 

“Shut your mouth,” Dean responds. “You didn’t see it the way I did; the whispering, Cas sneaking in and out of your room at all hours. Even some of the stuff I overheard was weird out of context. What else was I supposed to think?” 

“Not that,” Sam says amused. “Cas has been in my room so much because he’s worried about them. They weren’t doing so well the first few days and he pretty much nursed them back to life.” He looks at Dean expectantly. 

“Come on, Sam,” Dean says. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy here. I’m just thinking rationally.” 

“I know,” Sam responds. “We’re gone a lot and being responsible for them might be difficult. But you haven’t seen Cas with them. Dude’s really attached.” 

“He’ll get over it.” 

“No, listen,” Sam says. “We found them at the first witch’s house, after we took her out. The spell she was using required the bones of newborn kits.” He scowls. “There were only three left of the litter when we got there. We couldn’t just leave them.” 

“Could’ve dropped them at a shelter.” 

“I contacted a rescue in Des Moines,” Sam continues, “but they couldn’t take them until Monday, which is why we needed to stay the weekend in Iowa. They told us how to care for them until then, so we got what we needed and took them back to the motel.” 

“You said there were three,” Dean says. “I only saw two.” 

“Yeah,” Sam says sadly. “The runt didn’t make it. Cas was pretty broken up about that. They were malnourished and dying, so we stayed up with them for two nights trying everything to save them. I guess the little one was already too far gone. Cas took its death hard because he would have been able to save it if he still had grace.” 

That explains why Cas has been spending so much time with them in Sam’s room. 

“That’s why we decided to bring them back to the bunker instead of taking them to the rescue,” Sam says. “I think being able to save the other two has given Cas a sense of purpose.” 

“Okay, okay,” Dean holds up a hand to stop his brother from carrying on with his sales pitch. “I get it. They can stay.” 

“Really?” Sam sounds hopeful but skeptical. 

“But I swear the first time I step in bunny shit; they’re going in a stew.” 

Sam laughs at the empty threat and pulls out a bottle of beer from the pack on the table. “So, _you_ and Cas, huh?” 

Dean feels his cheeks heat. “Shut your mouth,” he says again. 

Of course, being his baby brother, Sam continues to needle him. “You guys kissed.” 

“Sam,” Dean warns. 

“It’s about time,” Sam says. “We’ve all been exhausted by the constant pining.” 

“I don’t pine.” 

“Psh! Years,” Sam responds. “Are you guys together now?” 

Dean throws his head back to swallow down the last of the beer before climbing to his feet. “I don’t know, Sam. Yeah, we kissed. Then I shoved him away and told him not to touch me again.” 

“That’s when you thought he was cheating on me?” Sam asks and shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s sweet, by the way. Thanks for defending my honor.” 

“Fuck’s sake, this isn’t funny,” Dean says. 

“You’re right,” Sam agrees. “You have been acting like an irrational dick lately, but neither of us will hold it against you, considering.” 

“Considering you were sneaking around and lying to me for days?” Dean asks. 

“We’re sorry about that,” Sam says. “But I’m the one who convinced Cas not to tell you.” 

“He still went along with it,” Dean points out. 

Sam can’t argue with that. “Just go talk to him. Although you probably shouldn’t mention that little stunt with the coffee. Some things can’t be forgiven.” 

* * *

Dean heads back to Sam’s room and is not surprised to find Cas still there safeguarding his new charges. 

However, he didn’t expect to see Kevin in there as well. “You knew about this?” he asks the prophet, who is currently hunched over a wooden crate staring down into the nest of blankets inside. 

Cas and Kevin look up when he enters and Dean doesn’t miss the way Cas places a protective hand around the edge of the crate from his position on the floor. 

“Oh look, it’s Elmer Fudd,” Kevin says sneer. 

“Fuck off, Kevin,” Dean responds. “I need to talk to Cas.” 

When they’re alone, Dean lowers himself to sit next to his friend. “Hey.” 

“Hello, Dean.” Cas reaches into the makeshift nest and gently strokes one of the sleeping rabbits between its ears. 

“They’re cute,” Dean says, watching as the tiny animal begins to stir under Cas’ ministrations. “Sam filled me in on everything.” 

“Oh?” Cas says cautiously. 

Dean scoots closer so he can pet the other bunny. “We can keep them.” 

Cas’ turns to meet his gaze with a gummy smile. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” If Sam hadn’t already changed his mind, the look of pure happiness on Cas’ face would have. “Don't know what we’re gonna do when we hunt though.” 

“Kevin won’t mind caring for them,” Cas says. 

“He did a terrible job when he was supposed to look after me last week,” Dean reminds him. 

“Yes, but Kevin actually likes the rabbits.” 

“Smartass.” Dean bumps him with his shoulder. 

“Dean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about them,” Cas says. “Sam was sure you would react poorly, but that’s no excuse.” 

“It’s not,” Dean agrees. 

There’s a pregnant pause, then Cas asks, “Did you really think that Sam and I were in an amorous relationship?” 

Dean sighs, not wanting to repeat the conversation he already had with Sam. “I did, yeah. Sounds ridiculous now that I know the truth. Must’ve been projecting or whatever.” 

“Is that why you have been distant these past few days?” Cas asks. 

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “Not gonna lie, I was pretty pissed.” 

“Is that also why you pushed me away when I kissed you?” Cas seems to steel himself for the answer. 

“Yes,” he admits. “Sorry about that.” 

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Cas reassures him. “It may not have been the reason you thought, but we were indeed hiding something from you.” 

“Still,” Dean joins their hands where they’ve settled inside the warmth of the small nest, “it sucks I ruined our first kiss.” 

“You can make it up to me with a second.” 

That’s an invitation he won’t turn down. Dean feels a surge of excitement when he closes the small gap and touches their lips together. The kiss isn’t heated the way the first had been. It’s slow and passionate, without an urgent need to press closer. It’s reassurance of their mutual feelings, and it’s a promise of so much more. 

They don’t pull apart until Sam comes in a while later and kicks them out for traumatizing the baby bunnies. 

End


End file.
